


Hunter/Hunted

by kierenmonroe



Category: In the Flesh (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Cas is a PDS Sufferer, Dean is in the HVF and he is very angry, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:15:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kierenmonroe/pseuds/kierenmonroe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by <a href="http://linneart.tumblr.com/post/94470332575">this</a> post.  Dean is in the HVF, and he <i>hates</i> the undead, has done ever since they killed his parents.  That is, until he meets PDS Sufferer Castiel.  Castiel changes Dean's outlook on things.</p><p>(I did get the okay from the artist to do this and oh my goodness go check out her art it's AMAZING.  <a href="http://linneart.tumblr.com">Here's</a> a link to her blog.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Death Valley

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so a lil rundown on the ITF universe for those of you who haven't seen the show.  
>  _Rotters/PDS Sufferers/Rabids_ \--They're the undead, the ones who have risen. During the Rising they were untreated, but when they were captured and taken to treatment centers, they were given a drug called neurotripyline. [Here](http://intheflesh.wikia.com/wiki/Neurotriptyline) is a bit more background, if you wanted to know more. If the PDS Sufferer misses a dose, they return to their rabid state. Not good.  
>  _The HVF_ \--They were the force that formed in Roarton after they were promised military help and never recieved it.  
>  **CHARACTERS**  
>  Bill Macy -- Actual character from the series. Actual asshole.  
> Gary Kendal -- Same thing pretty much. He dated Jem in the series, but I am not doing that to my lovely Jem in the fic. Sorry, Gaz.  
> Jemima (Jem) Walker -- MY LOVE. In the show, she is Kieren's sister, and obviously never dated Dean Winchester. She's a total cutie and a queen, and she will kick your ass if you cross her. 
> 
> I'll add character descriptions in the chapters when I add someone new. Any other questions, don't hesitate to ask in the comments or my [Tumblr](http://angeligays.co.vu)(:
> 
> \---THIS CHAPTER DOES HAVE SOME VIOLENCE/GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS---

It had all started one night.  Dean was sitting at the bar in the Legion, nursing a pint and ignoring the people around him.  Things seemed to be finally calming down, no rabids had been sighted in weeks, and the peace was returning. 

Or so Dean had hoped, anyway.  Unfortunately that illusion was quickly shattered as Gary Kendal came and leaned against the counter beside him, sighing heavily. 

“Can you believe they’re bringing those things back in?” 

Dean whipped his head around, eyes wide. “What did you say?” 

“They’re letting the rotters out.  Bringing them home, setting them loose on us again.” 

“Bullshit.  Where did you hear that?” 

Gary snorted and fished a folded newspaper from his pocket.  He slid it over to Dean and turned, leaning on one arm so he can see Dean’s reaction.  Dean read over the article quickly, his blood turning to ice. 

“Christ, Gaz.  Why are they doing this?” 

“No bloody clue.  They should know what type of stuff they stirred up here, doubt they would risk sending them to this town.  Either way, I’m afraid to see what Bill is like right now.” 

Bill Macy, the leader of the HVF, was…extreme, to put it gently.  He hated the risen with everything he had, demanding that they were all killed and repeatedly shouting, “A rotter’s a rotter, drugs or no drugs!” to anyone in earshot.  Many nights he could be seen around the Legion, pint in hand, drunkenly bragging about the HVF and what a change they had made.  And if you said anything that sounded even _remotely_ like you supported the undead?  Big mistake. 

Dean sighed, leaning his head against the cool wood of the bar.  “Shit.” 

Gary laughed and patted him on the back and signaled for Pearl, the woman behind the bar, to bring over another round.  “Ah, Winchester.  This world really has turned to shit, hasn’t it?” 

Dean nodded, taking the pint that Gary handed him.  “Really has, but we can change that, yeah?  We did it once.”  He raises his glass to Gary, who mirrors the gesture.  “Cheers, mate.”

\--

Later, after Bill had arrived and shouted himself hoarse, Dean walked home, hands in his pockets and his mind reeling.  It’s partially from the drinks, and partially from his own fear.  His parents had been killed during the rising, horribly, and in front of his eyes.  Since then, he had joined the HVF, and killed his fair share of the creatures and he had allowed himself to think that, just maybe, it was all over.  As he walked, with nothing to distract him from his morbid thoughts, the events of the night came rushing back to him. 

\--

He never did kill the two monsters who ate his parents.  One of them he did, but the other got away, and it had haunted him ever since.  He knew who they were—a young couple from just down the street.  While they were alive they had been sweet, soft-spoken and gentle.  They had always gone to church, and the wife always had a slice of pie for Dean.  When they died tragically in 2009, nearly all of Roarton had been at the funeral. 

Then, in December, when the Rising happened, there was no doubt in Dean’s mind that they would have risen as well.  Though he never understood the reasoning behind it, he had learned the pattern of all the risen being the ones who had just died that same year, and nobody else.

One night, he had been out with Jem, his girlfriend at the time.  He dropped her off at home, making sure she was in safe with boards over the windows, and then he made his way to his own home, just a few streets over.  When he was almost to his house, he saw them. 

The couple was making their way towards his home.  Dean froze, his hand going to his waist where he kept his Colt.  But he couldn’t do it, not when he saw the way the two were leaning on each other.  His heart skipped a beat and he took a deep breath, tucking the gun away again.  Maybe he could reason with them, he thought. 

But then what?  Send them off to eat some other family?  He closed his eyes tight, trying to wish them away.  When he opened his eyes, they were gone, and he was convinced for a moment that they had just been a trick of the light, his own terrified mind telling him they were there. 

Then he heard the scream. 

He ran towards his home, sprinting to the now broken screen door.  His mother was on the floor, blood on her white nightgown, the woman of the couple crouched over her.  He stepped closer and pulled the gun, training it on the woman.  She looked up at him and blinked, tilting her head to the side and Dean, scared as he was hesitated again.  At that moment, an arm wrapped around his neck and he was pulled back so hard his feet came out from underneath him and he shouted out, arms windmilling as he tried to right himself.  He heard a deep growl from beside his ear and then there was a sudden pain in his right shoulder. 

He cried out as he realized what was happening.  The husband was biting him, trying to drag him to his knees.  With a surprising surge of strength, Dean managed to break free.  He jerked away from the man—creature—holding him and threw himself across the room, grabbing his Colt as he did so.  He turned to help his mother but stopped dead as he saw her, eyes wide and framed with blood.  He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, not quite able to bring himself to look as he heard the noise of the bullet hitting skin and a sickening thud as the woman fell off his mother’s corpse, lifeless again. 

He turned to aim for the man, but he was gone.  Taking a deep breath, Dean slowly made his way towards the other side of the room, gun held out in front of him.  He stepped over the floorboard he knew always creaked, past the pictures of his family on the walls, now splattered with blood. _His mother’s blood_ , his mind supplied unhelpfully as the bile rose in his throat. 

“Dad?” he called, pulling himself away from the morbid scene, but there was no answer. 

He looked to the side, checking the kitchen, but it was empty too.  He moved towards the base of the stairs and froze when he heard a thud from above him. 

“Dad!” he shouted again, but the only answer was a strange scraping noise.  He ran up the stairs, gun still held up, following the noise of the scraping down the hall.  When he found the source, he nearly collapsed.

There was his father, lying on the floor with his arms over his head.  The husband was dragging him over towards the window.  Dean watched in horror as the monster smashed his father’s head into the window, then against the sill.  There was a sickening crunch and his father’s arms fell limply to his sides, his mouth going slack.  With another hit to the sill, his father’s head split open, blood spilling down the wall.  Dean lurched back, his hand going to his mouth as he tried to hold in his scream.  He turned and fell to his knees, vomiting on the floor, then lurched to his feet and ran from the house.  His heart broke more with each step as he ran, knowing his father was up there.  But a voice in the back of his head told him it was too late, it was time to get the hell out of there. 

He stumbled into the street howling, covered in blood.  He fell to his knees, coughing, trying to catch his breath.  Neighbors had heard the noises but were too afraid to leave the safety of their homes so they just watched from behind curtains, eyes wide as Dean continued to sob wretchedly in the middle of the road. 

Dean’s voice broke as he screamed and he coughed once, looking down at his hands.  They were covered in blood, and the strange black goo that had come from the woman when he shot her.  He retched once more then felt himself getting heavy and he slumped to the side, darkness taking him over.

\--

“Dean?” 

He yelped, jumping and turning to find the source of the voice.  It was Jem, sitting at the bus stop.  She raised an eyebrow at him and beckoned him over. 

“You seem out of it, what’s happened?” 

He shook his head, leaning back against the cold bench.  “Just thinking about stuff, I guess.  The rotters they’re sending back.  Wondering if they’re sending back the one that…you know.  I never did find out what happened to him after I ran out of the house.”

Jem flinched, and he turned his head to the side.  She was staring intently at her hands, which were shaking.  With a jolt Dean realized what had her so upset. 

“Your brother’s coming back, isn’t he?” 

Jem nodded, still not looking at Dean.  He reached over and took her hand, his other going to her chin to turn it towards him.  She met his eyes and he noticed that hers were wide and vulnerable, shining with tears she was fighting to hold back.  “Bill is gonna kill me, Dean.  He’s gonna kill _him._  I can't lost him again.”

“Jem, no.  We won’t let it happen, alright?” 

She nodded, still not seeming fully reassured.  He let go of her face and she leaned into him, her head against his shoulder.  He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.  Though things had been awkward after they broke up, he now thought of Jem as the little sister he never wanted, and he pulled her closer, shivering at the thought of her alone with her undead brother. 

“I promise you, Jem.  Your brother will be just fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is Death Valley by Fall Out Boy.
> 
> ALSO, a massive thanks to the people who helped me beta this chapter. [Lee](http://devourabaddon.tumblr.com), [Sarah](http://jensenpadalecki.co.vu/), [Jo](http://therealsamwinchester.co.vu/), and [Marianna](http://bunkerbound.tumblr.com/). Your feedback was amazing and I cannot thank you enough for getting this fic started out right <3


	2. The Kids Aren't Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so if you guys haven't heard already, In The Flesh was cancelled. I'm seriously upset, but also holding out hope that Netflix or Amazon will pick it up. You can tweet them, @NetflixUK or @AmazonVideoUK and ~~beg~~ ask them to at least consider it.
> 
> On a happier note, Supernatural is back this week. I'm both excited and terrified, not gonna lie. (Also remember that SPN is moving to Wednesdays on March 17th)
> 
> PHEW. Sad news aside, here we go with the next chapter. Again, a MASSIVE thank you to the beautiful [Lee](http://devourabaddon.tumblr.com) for helping me out so much with this. One day we can be editing fics and sipping tea and we'll actually be in the same time zone, how crazy would that be?

When Jem started to nod off, Dean coaxed her off the bench and walked her to her house.  As they got closer, they watched as her parents snuck out the side door and started the car, turning out of the garage and down the street. 

“Going to get Kier.” She said, and Dean nodded.  Norfolk was hours away. 

“He’s gonna be fine, Jem.  I’ll make sure of it.” 

He made sure she was safely inside, doors locked, before making his way home.  He tucked his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold wind, and tried not to think of the night all those years ago.  He passed a few people on the streets, surprised that despite the new threat of the monsters being sent home, people still felt safe. 

He made his way up the drive to the side door of his house and let himself in, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.  He let out a breath, closing his eyes.  Flashes of blood, of his father’s limp body and his mother’s unseeing eyes went across his closed lids and he slid down the door, hitting the ground. 

He scrubbed his hands through his hair and let his head fall back against the door.  “Stop thinking, Dean.  Stop.” 

_Crash._

Dean jumped to his feet, heart pounding.  “Hello?” 

His hand automatically went to his belt, reaching for the Colt he knew he had locked away in his shed.  He strained his ears to hear anything else.  There was a soft shuffling followed by the tinkling of broken glass.  He stepped over the creaking floorboard, past the family photos on the wall.  He made his way slowly up the stairs, peering down the hall, but he saw nothing. 

“Whoever’s up here better show their face.  Right now.” 

“Please, don’t…” 

He jumped nearly a foot in the air, turning so fast he nearly flipped himself over the bannister.  He saw the door to his parent’s room open slowly.  A gust of cold air came through and a pale hand reached around, thin fingers grasping the edge of the door. 

“Listen, please, don’t hurt me.  I know you’re going to want to but—please don’t hurt me.” 

“Just step out here, okay?  I haven’t got anything to hurt you with.” 

The stranger cleared their throat, let out a loud huff of air and stepped out from behind the door.  They were pale, almost shining in the light from the moonlight spilling in the room behind him.  He couldn’t have been much older than Dean.  He had a mess of dark hair and— 

White, pinprick eyes. 

Dean stepped back, his foot sliding on the carpet.  “Get the hell out.” 

The stranger— _monster—_ took another step out of the room.  It stepped fully into the hall, holding up shaking hands.  It looked down and away, averting its white gaze from Dean.  “I need help, or just the phone.  Please, I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Dean took another step backwards, slowly moving down the stairs.  “How did you get in?  We’re on the first floor." 

“Climbed.  Look, I just want to use the phone, I thought the house was empty.”  It had a bag over its shoulders and one of the straps was slipping down.  It moved as if it were going to push it up but saw Dean’s own hands go up in defense.  It raised its hands up slowly again and took a step back towards the wall. 

“Get.  Out.  Did you bring any other rotters here with you?”  The creature shook its head quickly.  “Don’t you dare lie to me.  I’ll blow your head off, don’t think I won’t.” 

“Calm down.”  The rotter rolled its eyes and dropped its arms.  “You haven’t got a weapon, and I’m not hungry.”  At Dean’s horrified look it seemed to realize its mistake and backtracked.  “Okay, bad joke.  But look, I just want to get home, alright?  My family is just a few blocks over, and I went by but they weren’t in.  They don’t even know I _left._ ” 

“How do I know you aren’t lying?”  Dean took a deep breath and stepped back up the stairs. “You’re right, I don’t have a weapon.  But I bet there’s someone I can call, get you carted back to Norfolk.”  The rotter’s eyes went impossibly wide and Dean grinned.  “Yeah, you won’t like that.  So you better have some way to prove to me that you’re who you say you are.” 

The monster looked down, its mouth moving as if he were trying to plan out the right words. 

“Better talk quick, rotter.” 

White eyes flicked up to meet Dean’s and he tried to breathe as memories flooded back.  Blood, screaming, broken bones. 

“You’re Dean Winchester.  You dated Jem Walker, and her brother is a PDS Sufferer like me.  Uh, you and I went to school together.  I had—” he stopped and shook his head.  “We weren’t friends.  I don’t think you noticed me.” 

But Dean did notice.  Of course he wouldn’t admit it in the moment, but he remembered the boy—flashes of him, just barely.  Sitting near him in class, passing him in the hall.  Remembered hearing on the school announcements that a student had passed away, but he couldn’t remember seeing more than a few people shed a tear. 

“Castiel?” 

The creature grinned, and it was a horrifying sight, pale eyes and blue lips stretched across shining white teeth.  Like a living skull, and Dean had to swallow down the choked noise that threatened to escape his mouth. 

“What the hell happened to you?  How did you get to be like…this?” 

“You know, Dean, if only people had cared when I was still alive, maybe you wouldn’t be asking that now.  You don’t get my tragic backstory, okay?  Just let me use your phone so I can get out of here.”  The sudden change in tone shocked Dean but he just sighed and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Fine.  It’s in that room there.  Don’t try anything, because I will tackle you.” 

Cas shook his head and moved past Dean, just barely brushing their arms together.  Just the touch of his icy skin sent shivers down Dean’s spine and he curled in on himself, away from the fucking _walking corpse_ that is now in his bedroom.  He heard Cas’ voice, soft as if he were trying to persuade the person on the other end of the line. 

“Dad—please, Dad, just let me come home.  I haven’t got anywhere else to go.” 

A beat of silence and then Dean heard the phone being laid down, but Cas didn’t come out.  Dean waited and when he heard no movement he turned into the room to see Cas staring down at the phone, as if it were going to help him solve a problem. 

“You leaving now?” 

Cas shook his head.  “No.  My dad doesn’t want me back.” 

Dean felt a surge of pity for Cas but when he turns his eyes catch the light and that’s all it takes for Dean to change his mind again.  “Sorry to hear that.  But you still gotta go.” 

Cas turned, eyes wide, and Dean took a step back.  “Please, Dean, don’t send me out there alone.  You know as well as I do what’s going to happen if you do that.” 

“No.” 

“No what?” 

“You aren’t staying here.  I can’t—” Dean shook his head.  “No, you can’t.  I’m sorry.” 

Cas stared at him and then lurched forward.  Before Dean can even move, Cas had him pinned to the wall beside the door, cold hands on his shoulders. 

“Dean, please.  I can’t go out there!  I don’t have anywhere to go, if I step out there I’ll be dead in less than an hour.  Please, Dean, I know you aren’t a bad person.  I know you care about people.” 

“Exactly.  I care about _people._  What are you?  A reanimated corpse, and you broke into my house.”  Cas took a step back, one hand still pressed to Dean’s arm.  Dean felt it like Cas’ hand was burning a mark there and he pulls away, Cas’ hand falling limply to his side. 

“You think I want this?” Cas’ voice was soft, and his eyes were cast downward again.  “You think I wanted to wake up in a fucking coffin, fight my way out, and then—and then do what I did?”  He looked up suddenly, eyes wide and full of anger.  “I had no choice in the matter, Dean.  If I did I would be right back in my grave.” 

Dean’s breath stopped in his chest.  Even though he was _thoroughly_ disgusted and horrified by what Cas was now, he still couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.  He had been through his fair share of tough moments after his parents, but he had never felt low enough to actually want that. 

Cas must have seen the change in Dean’s emotion on his face and he smiled, folding his arms over his chest.  “I’m sorry, okay?  I didn’t mean to freak you out.  I’ll go.” 

He stepped past Dean, moving down the stairs with stiff movements, and for a moment Dean just watched him go.  He reached the door and stood there, bracing himself. 

 _Screw it._ “You can stay.” he ground out. 

Cas turned slowly and looked up at Dean almost shyly.  “Thank you”

 

\--

 

They stood in front of the couch, Dean at one end and Cas at the other.  Dean rocked back on his heels, hands tucked in his pockets.  “Right.  Well, you go ahead and make yourself comfortable.  Want something to eat?” 

“Can’t.  Insides all screwy.” 

“Ah.” 

An uncomfortable silence fell over them.  Cas was staring down at the sofa, looking at it like it was the best thing in the world.  Dean looked him over, his heart aching again. 

He was about as tall as Dean, if not a few inches shorter.  He stood awkwardly, curled in on himself, as if he were trying to hide.  His dark hair was getting long, and Dean remembered him from before.  Bright blue eyes flashing behind glasses, sweaters always a size too big and hanging over his hands, the sleeves frayed. 

“Cas—" 

“Dean—" 

They laughed awkwardly and Cas smiled, signaling for Dean to start. 

“Sorry.  But yeah, listen, I’m sorry for, you know.  This.”  He waved his hand at Cas.  “I don’t really know how it happened but, yeah.” 

Cas smiled and looked down at his feet.  “S’okay.  I don’t want to bore you with the story.  I’m back now, that’s all that matters, right?” 

Dean nodded, biting his lower lip.  “Okay.  Well, yeah.  You just…okay.”  He turned and made to head up the stairs, but a soft hand on his shoulder stopped him.  He jumped a bit at the icy touch and turned.  Cas was still standing there with his hand held out.  He let it drop awkwardly to his side and he rubbed his wrist. 

“I do need help with something.” He said, not meeting Dean’s eyes.  “I need my shot." 

“Shot?” 

Cas nodded and reached behind the couch, picking up his bag.  He reached into it and pulled out a small black case, unzipping it and holding it out to Dean.  “Neurotriptyline.  It’s what keeps me…” he paused, “...like this.” he finished lamely. 

Dean stared at the case, then shakily took it from Cas’ hand.  “Alright, well seeing as I don’t want to become a midnight snack…” 

Cas rolled his eyes and turned his back to Dean.  “Alright, so you see the injection hole?  The tip of the thing goes in there, then you just pull the trigger.  Wait, lemme sit down.”  Cas sat on the edge of the sofa, Dean perching behind him.  “You okay to do this?  I can try to do it myself if you need me to.” 

“No, no, I’m fine.”  Dean pulled the collar of Cas’ shirt down and stared at the small black hole.

“Okay, I’ll count it down.”  He fitted the end of the device into the hole and took a deep breath, Cas’ shoulders moving as he does the same.  “Okay, here goes.  Three, two…one.” 

He squeezed the trigger and a soft hissing noise sounded as the medicine dispenses.  Cas jerks and falls back, nearly knocking Dean off the sofa.  Dean acts on instinct, grabbing Cas’ shoulders and holding him to his chest.  “Cas?  Shit, Cas, what happened, did I do it wrong?” 

The shaking stopped and Cas took a deep breath, still leaning against Dean’s chest.  “Not you.  Flashbacks, it’s just the medicine.  I’m fine.” 

“How often do you have to do this?” 

“Every day.” 

“And do you always get the flashbacks?”

Cas nodded, his head bumping Dean’s chin.  That small movement made Dean realize with a shock that Cas was still leaning on him, and Dean had a hand wrapped around Cas’ wrist.  He pulled back so quickly that Cas nearly fell off the sofa, reaching a hand out to grab the edge of it to steady himself.

Dean quickly searched for something to change the subject, “So...how did you get out?”

“What?”

“The treatment center is in Norfolk.  That’s ages away, how did you get out?  You couldn’t have walked, and you’re...well, I doubt you would get people pulling over to help out.”

Cas laughs bitterly.  “Yeah. Well, I knew my dad wasn’t coming to get me. I got out with my roommate, Gabriel.  He hotwired a car and drove down here.  He lives farther away, but he said he could take me with him.”

“What happens if they find you?” Dean asked, his stomach churning at the thought.

“Not entirely sure.  They were about to let us out anyway, but they’re eager for an excuse to hurt us.  All the living are like that.”  His eyes flicked up to meet Dean’s and he smiled shyly.  “Most of the living, anyway.”

“Alright, well.”  Dean cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at the pale man sitting in front of him.  “Okay.  Night, Cas.”  He turned on his heel and walked away as quickly as he could, trying to hide the shudder that went down his spine as he thought of Cas’ cold skin against his.

Cas watched him go, skin ghostly pale and almost shining in the moonlight that was filtering in through the window.  As he listened to Dean go up the stairs, taking them two at a time, he sighed and looked at the spot Dean had just been occupying.

“Good night, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Fall Out Boy song for the title.
> 
> And also for my fellow American readers who may not know (though your probably do and I'm just slow, Lee had to explain this to me) the first floor is actually the second floor of the house. It goes ground floor, first floor, and so on.

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, let me know what you think in the comments! Feedback is seriously encouraged, I live off it. And again, since I'm a shameless self promoter, here's my [Tumblr.](http://angelicgays.co.vu)


End file.
